Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

"Is the Assembly agreed on this verdict?"
The lord's voice echoed uncomfortably loud. The hands that went up went up in silence. On the far right of the hall, a congregation of men and women in burgundy robes all but sat on their hands, glowering at the others around the room who had put them up.
"Agreed." The lord slapped the table with the strength of a gavel. Jordan jumped, even though he'd seen it coming. "The Heads will now vote. In favour of punishment, hands up."
Jordan shrank under Eril's glare as the old man's hand went up. The woman sat beside Yddris, her robes in blue and white, also raised her hand.
"In favour of innocence, hands up."
Yddris's hand went up, as did that of the woman sat on the lord's left. At the end of the row, the papery little man with the wizened face wearing robes of deep grey, whom Jordan hadn't heard speak once, raised his hand. The woman on the lord's left, so composed up until this point, openly gaped and a chorus of whisperings set up around the room, silenced instantly by the lord's hand rising.
Jordan glanced around, and found everyone's eyes on the man in grey, but if the attention bothered him it didn't show on his face.
"Agreed." A bang. "The accused are ruled innocent."
Jordan's knees turned to jelly. It was an effort to stay standing, especially in the face of the impotent rage in Eril's expression.
"When can we go home?"
Jordan turned to Grace, who was staring up the High Table with hard eyes. Then he turned to the lord, also waiting for an answer. He was more than ready to get back and dismiss this all as a terrible dream. The alternative – living with the knowledge that there more worlds out there, that things like that demon existed – was too much to contemplate.
Lord Harkenn returned her look for a long moment. "You aren't getting home."
"What?"
Jordan didn't know if he or Grace said it. He thought perhaps they both had. Or maybe he had thought it.
"But we got here," Grace said, "There must be a way back."
"Oh yes, I'm sure there is," Harkenn said. "Somewhere, somehow. There is a reason that portal you came through caused such a stir, though, girl, and that is because nobody knows how to create one. Portals that occur naturally are rare. And out of the myriad worlds each portal could connect between, how likely do you think it is that another will appear between here and the exact place and time you came from?" He made a dismissive gesture. "Miniscule. Infinitesimal. I'm afraid, girl, you're going to have to start again here."
"But..."
"This case is dismissed." Another bang on the table cut her off, and people began to get up and leave. Chairs scraped back, conversations started, and Jordan was sure everybody took at least one good long look at them as they exited. He was past caring. His brain had turned to mash and it was hard to hear what anyone was saying to him. He wasn't sure anyone even was talking to him, because one minute there was talking and the next minute Yddris was there.
"Snap out of it, boy." The man snapped his fingers in front of Jordan's face.
Jordan blinked and looked up. The rows were almost empty.
He turned to Grace, who was staring at the floor. As if she sensed him looking, she turned. There were tear tracks on her face, and when she tried to smile it failed.
"What did he mean," Jordan said blankly, "that there's no way home?"
He had been asking this over and over in his head since the Lord had said it, and he almost didn't realised he had asked it aloud until Yddris replied.
"Portals work in strange ways," the man said. "Nobody knows how to open one deliberately anymore. People used to, but that was lost a long time ago." He cocked his head and then sighed. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
It wasn't worth anything, Jordan thought. The only thing that would be worth a damn was a way to take them back. There had to be a way; they either weren't telling them or they didn't know. But there had to be one.
"Jordan," Grace said quietly. "Come on. We need to go."
He turned and saw their guards standing behind them. They made no move to replace the shackles.
"You're no longer a prisoner, so no one's locking you up," Yddris said. "But you're expected in the lord's study."
The guard at the front grunted and gestured to the open doors. Jordan hesitated, and then Grace's fingers slipped into his. They were freezing cold and trembling, but her face was set as she started walking, pulling him with her. He drew up alongside her and untangled their hands, putting an arm around her instead and pulling her close. Yddris walked behind them; Jordan didn't look, but he could feel the man's crackling static aura in the air. For a moment, he felt fear; did that mean that he was Gifted, whatever that meant? But then Grace shuddered and drew closer to him, imperceptibly speeding up, and he felt relief. They hadn't questioned Grace about magic, and if she could feel it then that made his reaction normal.
He almost scoffed, and then stopped himself. Magic was something he could afford to disbelieve if he hadn't come here through a hole in the sky.
They were led a different way through the castle corridors this time. The halls were narrower, less ostentatious. Gone were the chandeliers, replaced by flickering braziers. Coats of arms lined the walls instead of severe-looking paintings. Jordan was starting to think that this was decoration fit for the route to the dungeons, but as he stepped into the study, he realised that the rooms made up for the drab hallways and then some.
Lord Harkenn's study was a cavernous room of dark polished beams and intricate tapestries. A fireplace took up most of the far wall, the mantel lined with ornate candelabras dancing with dozens of little flames. A carved desk took up a lot of the deep plush carpet under their feet, and behind that was a cabinet filled with glass decanters. Weapons hung where the tapestries left bare space, immaculately polished. A large mural of a ram skull decorated the wall above the hearth, and below it stood the lord himself, humming gently with his back to them.
Jordan glanced at Grace to ask if she was seeing what he did, but her gaze was on the far left corner. He started when he saw the slave girl Anarabelle sitting there. Her eyes were closed, her face serene, despite the thick chain running from her neck to a heavy hook in the wall and the blood spotting the neckline of the coarse shift she wore.
"Ah." The lord turned. He smiled, but his eyes were cold. "You're here."
Grace turned back. Her fingers slipped back into Jordan's and he squeezed them, trying to offer reassurance he didn't feel himself in his smile when she looked at him.
"Well." Harkenn stepped forward. He seemed huge all of a sudden, now that he stood so close. "That was an interesting trial, wasn't it, Yddris? One of our more eventful ones."
"Kiel and Nict agreed on something," Yddris returned, "That in itself is an event."
The lord chuckled. "I thought Lady Kerrin might die from shock for a moment there."
Behind them, the study door flew open with a bang. Looking much smaller than he had at the Heads' Table, Eril strode in without invitation. His burgundy robe was embroidered with gold thread the glimmered in the candlelight, but its opulence still didn't quite make up for the fact that he stood fully two feet shorter than Lord Harkenn and was panting from the walk to the study. Or perhaps it was sheer rage. Jordan couldn't tell.
"This is preposterous, Faellian," he spluttered. "You surely can't mean to..."
"I don't remember allowing you in, sir." Harkenn's voice lashed out like a whip. Though it wasn't loud, it certainly shut Eril up. "I don't recall you being on first name terms with me, either. Start again, and try not to embarrass yourself this time." He glanced over the man's head. "Thank you for waiting, Kerrin."
Jordan jumped as Kerrin brushed past him. She wore a flowing robe of pale yellow with billowing sleeves, her pale hair bound tightly and pinned in place with a gold clasp made in the form of supplicating hands. Yddris bowed to her as she passed and roundly ignored Eril's presence. Jordan didn't think it went unnoticed.
"You have met Lady Kerrin and Lord Eril," Harkenn said to Grace and Jordan, when Eril showed no inclination to start again. He had turned an ugly puce colour and looked at them like he might a squashed bug. "Heads of the two largest religious houses in Nictaven and my self-appointed," the Lord shot a dirty look at Eril's back, "advisors on just what exactly I'm supposed to do with you both."
Jordan swallowed. Grace squeezed his hand.
"They should not be allowed to integrate," Eril said, oblivious as he clasped his hands in front of him, "They're otherworld. Who knows what kind of poisonous ideas they could spread?"
"They are young," Kerrin countered. Her voice was soft, melodious. When she smiled, Jordan felt a little better. "Young enough to start again and start well. It would not be fair not to give them this chance, considering they did not come here willingly."
"This isn't about fairness, Kerrin," Eril snapped, "It is about the good of Nictaven. We know nothing about where they are from, and despite the Assembly vote, we do not really have any evidence that they did not have any part in the portal opening. They already got the benefit of the doubt many times over."
"And what, pray, do you suggest we do with them, if they are not allowed to integrate nor can we keep them prisoner?" Kerrin said.
"I do not know or care," Eril said. "Give them to the Unspoken, maybe."
"And what would we do with them, my Lord?" Yddris murmured. "They aren't Gifted. If you think we can make that the case by sheer willpower, or would given the ability, you misunderstand who we are."
"The boy, at least," Eril replied, after a pause. "He has some potential, does he not? You as good as said so yourself."
Jordan looked to Yddris, heart thundering. The Unspoken spared him a glance before saying, "Everyone is potentially Gifted, my Lord. It is not the same thing as being Gifted, nor will taking him into the Guild change that if it is not meant to be. It is not a solution."
Finally, Lord Harkenn moved. He took two steps forward, silencing the debate immediately. His eyes were on Grace.
"I am always in need of maids," he said quietly.
Jordan fidgeted. The way Harkenn looked at Grace was almost predatory. He glanced to the corner at the sound of a faint rattle. The slave girl's eyes were open and watching the Lord with an unreadable expression on her face; as if she sensed Jordan looking, they slid to him. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.
"What..." he blurted immediately, stumbling over his words. "What are the options?" He gave a nervous laugh when he realised everyone was looking at him. "I mean, we don't know anything about this place."
Eril's lip curled, but Kerrin smiled again. "I'm sure we could find you an apprenticeship somewhere. Couldn't we, my Lord?" She gave him an appraising look. "Blacksmithing maybe. Or apothecary?"
"I know a barkeep looking for help," Yddris put in. "I'm sure I could convince him to take you. Gives you more time to think."
"Ridiculous," Eril muttered, "This is farcical. They know nothing. How is he going to fare competently in any job here?"
"I've worked in a bar before," Jordan said, "My Lord. It can't...can't be that different." He glanced at Yddris again, and couldn't help but feel like the man was finding him incredibly amusing. "Right?"
"Excellent," Kerrin said, clapping her hands. "It seems like a good opportunity to observe his behaviour, too, wouldn't you agree, Eril?"
Eril grumbled something incoherent which Kerrin seemed to take as an agreement.
"The castle would also be an excellent place to observe behaviour," Harkenn said. He turned and walked back to the fireplace. "She'll be paid, boarded and fed. Yddris, find the boy a job. Hire him yourself if you have to."
"Wait," Jordan said, at the same time as Grace did. The lord turned, eyebrow raised.
"We can see each other, right?" Grace said. Jordan glanced at the slave, but she had closed her eyes again.
"If you have a mutual day off I highly doubt anyone will stop you," Harkenn said. He sniffed and went to the cabinet behind his desk, beside which a panel was nailed to the wall with a small chain hanging from it. He tugged it. "Someone will come and fetch you momentarily. Yddris, you will take the boy and find him board and a job. Keep a score of expenses, I'll reimburse you tomorrow."
"So that's it?" Lord Eril said, before either Grace or Jordan could say it first. "You're just turning them loose on us without any other precautions? No guards? No surveillance?"
Jordan turned to Grace. Her fingers were clasped around his painfully tight, hard mask cracking and her fear showing through. Despite it, she tried to smile. Jordan didn't even bother.
"Fuck," he whispered, "We'll...we'll think of something, yeah?"
She nodded, eyes flitting from his face to the door and back again. "Let me know where you are as soon as you get the job and...."
"And we can both start thinking...."
"Don't make a scene, boy, it won't help anything." Yddris's breath was heavy with smoke next to his ear. A cloud of it passed him and stung his eyes, the Unspoken man's strange crackling presence uncomfortably close.
"I think my entire house guard and household staff is sufficient to keep the girl in check," Harkenn was saying to Eril, "and Yddris has his eye on the boy."
"I'll write to you," Grace said quickly in an undertone, "As soon I can, or...or I'll send a message somehow."
A knock sounded at the study door, and Jordan lurched forward to pull his sister into an embrace. Her tears were hot against his neck.
"Just be okay, Joe," she whispered. "Please."
He tried to speak through the panic, and only managed another quick embrace before Yddris had his arm around his shoulders and was firmly leading him out. He only had the strength for a token resistance. Even if he had had more, the man would have overpowered him. The arm around him was as unyielding as a bar of iron, keeping his feet moving when Jordan couldn't do it himself. His thoughts raced with imaginings of the future, and none of the scenarios were good. He thought of home – did their parents even know they were missing yet? – and everything they'd left behind.
"Fuck," he said again. "Fuck."
"If I let go, will you fall over?" Yddris muttered, "It's a serious question."
Jordan looked at him, but only saw the side of the man's deep cowl. "Probably."
Yddris sighed. "Alright then."
"But why?" Jordan said.
"Because I don't fancy carrying you."
"No, not that," he snapped. "Why does Grace have to stay here? Why..."
"Because Lord Harkenn said so," Yddris replied. It wasn't said harshly, but Jordan flinched anyway. "That is reason enough. More reason than you are able to counter with any little stunt you might want to pull." Gloved fingers clenched on Jordan's shoulder. "Remember that, boy. You could easily have lost your life if one more head had voted in Eril's favour. You've been pretty lucky so far, all things considered."
"But that would still leave an uneven vote."
Yddris snorted softly. "My vote doesn't weigh as much as a head's vote, boy. They invite Unspoken as a courtesy." He paused. "My vote might affect how some in the Assembly vote, but of itself it's worth little."
"So...who are you, exactly? There are more of your...people?"
"Many more," Yddris said. "We're a guild of unlucky sods."
"And this crackling," Jordan said, "That's magic?"
"Aye."
"How come only I could feel it on the island, but everyone can feel it on you?"
"That's the kind of question you get to ask if you're also an unlucky sod of the magical variety." Yddris chuckled lightly. "Which you may turn out to be, you may not. You've already checked the 'unlucky sod' option. And if you do I'll tell you."
Jordan fell quiet, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. His mind was buzzing, but not with any coherent thoughts; just images, and messy ones at that. His eyes burned but he refused to cry. He'd already embarrassed himself in front of a whole room of people; there was no need to make it worse.
Though it would take some doing to make things any worse, he thought bitterly. For a mad moment he thought about breaking free of the man and running back, but what would it do? Grace could handle herself better than he could. Whatever the slave girl had meant by shaking her head, it clearly hadn't been dire enough for her to intervene.
A part of him was still uneasy, but it was whisked away from him in the freezing wind that hit them as they stepped out into the courtyard. The sky boiled with angry purple clouds, and the winking yellow lights of the city spread out ahead of them. Jordan gaped. He hadn't seen anything of the city except the few parts he had been marched through; he'd had no idea it was so vast. They passed under a towering gatehouse built of black stone and people stared as they went, but Jordan didn't have eyes for them.
The lights spread for miles on all sides, reaching far into the distance, where they were abruptly stopped by a hulking chain of mountains, and the mountains themselves...
"They're green," Jordan said, squinting. "Why are the mountains green?"
"That, boy," Yddris said, finally letting go of him, "is what magic looks like."
Jordan turned to stare at him, but the man simply got out his pipe and stuffed it, as if glowing green mountains were normal. He supposed they were here. Then he stared some more, as Yddris produced a lick of emerald green flame from thin air and lit up with it.
"Come on," Yddris grunted, allowing him to look for a moment before extinguishing it with similar ease. "Let's find you that dark-damned job before Harkenn has my bollocks."
He walked away, out onto the long drive beyond the gatehouse without looking back to see if Jordan followed. He lurched forward after the trailing hem of Yddris's cloak, pulling his coat tighter around him and trying to look at everything at once.
"I guess this is home now, then," he mumbled as they entered the city proper, trying not to stare too much as they passed a large, shirtless, filthy man taking a piss in the middle of the street.
Yddris grunted. "Perhaps. Don't stare, boy, what's wrong with you?"
Jordan flushed dull red. "He's doing it in the street."
"And that makes you want to look, does it?"
Jordan scowled. "I hate you."
All he got in response was a snort. After another moment of walking, through a long avenue of squat houses with high roofs and small windows, the Unspoken murmured, "I'd think you were cracked if you didn't.